This story began here, or to be more precise, much earlier. When my father, as a six year old schoolboy, was sitting next to a map of Czechoslovakia in his classroom and was contemplating the strangeness of the name Velky Blh. As it was at eye level on the map, it was almost inevitable that his gaze landed on the name several times a day.
At the age of six, he hoped to travel there one day. He could not have known that the future love of his life, my mother aged 4 at the time, was playing with dolls, chasing butterflies and sledging down slopes in that peculiarly named village.
My story too, began with a dream, precisely at age 6, when I proclaimed I will become a writer.